Ayesha
by Phantom's Fallen Angel
Summary: What if the slave girl Erik is given at the Persian court had been a bit more mature? What if she had stayed with him? One-shot (for a reason) Not as bad as it sounds! Based on SK. RR!


AYESHA

Disclaimer: OBVIOUSLY, I don't own POTO. The lucky ... people... who do own it are Gaston Leroux, Susan Kay and Andrew Lloyd Webber. If I owned Erik, what would I do? Hmmm... hold him, cuddle him, never let him go... yeah, something like that!

A/N: To all those who also read 'One heart's darkness', don't worry, I am NOT abandoning it, the fifth chapter is well under way, it's just taking a little longer. Besides, I had this idea in my head for so long, I just had to write it. So, please REVIEW and tell me what you think!

Erik

I couldn't believe the sight before me. A eunuch was dragging a young slave girl through the room towards me, a girl that was supposed to be mine!

Nadir had stammered something like an explanation, and suddenly I realised that this was but another torture device the khanum had thought of to torment me with.

Still, I couldn't deny the desire coursing through me as I beheld the girl. She was very beautiful, with large dark eyes, the Persian complexion and a waterfall of black curls down her back that was loosely held by a couple of colourful ribbons.

I stood up slowly, not really trusting my knees, and, with an unsteady hand, pulled away the translucent veil that still covered her face. Her eyes were full of fear, but there was also a deceptive strength in her.

"How old are you?" I asked harshly.

"Seventeen, master." Her response was almost inaudible.

"Did they tell you what is expected of you?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Very well. I saw behind your veil, my dear. Now you shall have the same honour. Come here and take off my mask!"

The girl rose to her feet. She was shaking from head to toe, but she obediently raised her slender hands and pulled the mask of my face. I held my breath, but she didn't scream, she didn't step back. Only her eyes widened for the briefest moment, then they softened and she looked at my abhorred face with ease, before letting her gaze drop to the floor again, as all Persian slaves were trained to do.

I put a finger under her chin and made her look up at me again. She was so small! I towered over her, a good nine inches taller than her.

"What is your name?" My voice had turned soft again, although my desire for her had not diminished.

"It's Ayesha, master!"

"Don't call me master. Call me by my name. Do you know it?"

Suddenly, she reached up and, ever so lightly, brushed her fingers down my cheek. "Erik!"

Ayesha

The effect that simply physical contact seemed to have on him was extraordinary. He gasped and clasped my hand, leaning into my touch as if he had never been touched before by a friendly hand.

Now that I think about it, that was probably the case. His face, his face… Oh Allah, I have never seen anything like it. It was appalling to look at, but there were his eyes, his hands and his _voice_, too beautiful for an ordinary mortal.

He ordered the others to leave us with a few harsh words, then we were alone.

His shaking hands undid my hair and he wrapped his thin fingers into it and drew a shuddering breath, almost like a sob.

He was so gentle! He offered me to just lie next to him, or to wear a blindfold. I refused both offers, as I no longer dreaded my duty to be with him.

Like the khanum had said, he was so ugly that it was almost attractive. Coupled with that voice, it made him probably the most irresistible man in Persia.

He led me to his bedroom. It comforted me to see the little blush on his face. As we stood in front of the majestic bed, he turned to me and said softly, "You don't have to do this. Nobody needs to know, you could just… pretend. I will not deny that I want you," his eyes looked deep into mine, "but I will not force you. I will not sink that low!"

Again, surprised by my own boldness, I reached for him, this time to start unbuttoning his shirt. He stared at me, as if he couldn't believe what I was doing. When his shirt was finally discarded, my eyes lingered on the many scars on his torso. I recognized them for what they were, every slave knows what whip marks look like.

The sight of them made me sad and angry, and I began to place kisses on those scars, as if trying to erase them.

Erik's hands caressed my hair and I heard him weep. So, to give him time to adjust to the situation, I took a step back and began to peel off my own clothing. His gaze never left me, and I couldn't help a certain feeling of self-satisfaction. Here I was, the odalisque, the love slave, and the most feared man in the country was looking at me like I was the centre of his world.

When we did retire to the bed, he was infinitely soft and gentle, discovering every aspect of lovemaking together with me.

Later, he fell asleep in my arms. As I looked upon his resting visage, it occurred to me that really his ugliness did not go past it, on any level. In truth, I was perhaps the luckiest a girl in my situation could have gotten.

I drifted off to sleep as well, all the while praying that he wouldn't send me away in the morning.

Nadir

When I knocked on Erik's door in the morning, three weeks later, his "enter" sounded so cheerful, it made me waver a moment before entering.

The magician was sitting on a divan under the open window, the girl was next to him. She had drawn her legs up onto the divan and her head was resting on Erik's shoulder, her fingers playing with his hair. They had been taking in hushed voices, and as I watched, she giggled and accepted a grape that Erik had held in front of her lips. I cleared my throat and they turned towards me. The girl looked amused, and Erik's expression was probably similar, but the mask hid his face again.

"Yes, daroga? Why are you staring at us like a camel at a barn door? Ayesha, dear, get the good daroga a chair, will you?"

"Certainly," she answered with a smile and stood up. After offering me a quick bow, she cleared the music sheets off a chair and gestured at me to sit down. I did, too stunned to say anything further.

"So… you have accepted the shah's gift, then?" I asked stupidly. Erik laughed.

"Apparently. Was that your reason for coming?"

I became serious. "No, not really. I have to warn you. You have fallen out of favour with the shah. The progress in the built of the palace has reached a point where you are no longer essential to it, and the shah wants you to be eliminated."

Ayesha gasped, but the magician but a comforting hand on her slender arm.

"And what do you propose I do, Nadir?" he asked, his voice tight.

"I'll come for you tonight. Gather what you have in transportable wealth and take it with you. I'll send the guards ahead and you'll have a chance to run."

"And Ayesha? I will not leave without her!"

I could see the girl's grateful smile and her hold on his arm tightened.

"Fine, take her with you, then. I can find an explanation for that!"

He sighed. "Very well. I always thought my stay in Persia would end somewhat like this. At least I have you," he said, turning towards the girl and placing a finger under her chin to lift her face to his. She returned his gaze with adoration and responded eagerly as his lips claimed hers. I chose that moment to discreetly leave the room.

Erik

Finally, the day I knew would arrive had come. But something in my initial plan had changed: now, Ayesha was by my side. After just one night with her, I knew I wanted to keep her, to hold her and cherish her. In just one night, she had restored the human in me, and the feeling was wonderful. I had been enjoying it these past weeks and I was not going to let it go.

It all happened that night as Nadir had laid out. We left the palace, with Ayesha and I posing as the daroga's prisoners. Then he sent the guards ahead to alert the prison and cut our bonds.

I pulled Ayesha onto a horse with me. She couldn't ride herself, and besides, I wanted to hold her in my arms. Her small, soft body was giving off warmth and comfort, both things I could use that night.

Nadir told me what route to take and how he had planned to escape punishment. I still couldn't dispel the feeling of uneasiness at the thought of him paying for my crimes, but he insisted, on the memory of his dead son, and so I left it at that.

One more thing irked me a little, as Nadir appointed himself my conscience and made me promise that I wouldn't kill out of pure bloodlust anymore, something I knew would be hard to do, as killing had become as addicting as opium, but the seriousness in his eyes and the feeling of Ayesha's soft hand in mine made me give my word.

Then the daroga and I exchanged parting gifts. I gave him a pouch full of diamonds, he handed us a parcel of food "for the road".

"Oh, you cook, daroga?" quipped Ayesha. He forced a smile. "No, I had a cook in the palace put it together. I knew Erik wouldn't think to take food."

I handed him my mask and my cloak, which he would use to disguise another corpse as me. After a few more words of goodbye, Ayesha and I rode off.

I felt the happiest I ever had, with a wonderful woman in my arms and a life of freedom ahead of me. Really, I was happy. So I guess I should have known that it wouldn't last.

After two hours, I heard Ayesha's stomach rumbling.

I laughed a little at that and said, "By all means, my dear, have some food. If you wait for me to get hungry, you'll starve."

She smiled at me and helped herself to a bite of bread. Shortly afterwards, she convulsed in the saddle in front of me, as pain racked her body.

"What is it?" I asked, shocked.

"…hurts!" she gasped weakly and pointed at her stomach. I had the horse stop and jumped to the ground, then lifted her down as well. She slapped her hand in front of her mouth as she coughed, but I could see the blood seeping through her fingers.

Panic seized me, as I lowered her to the ground, holding her shoulders as more violent shudders ran through her and she threw up more blood.

Why hadn't I researched Persian poisons after almost falling victim myself, why??

After a while, she lay still in my arms, trying to keep her gaze on my face, but her eyes kept slipping out of focus.

"You know," she said weakly, "I never lay with you out of fear. And although we haven't been together too long… I was happy!"

"So was I," I replied, unable to control my tears any longer. A few tears dropped onto her face.

"Don't cry," she said softly and, gathering her diminishing strength once more, she reached up and brushed away my tears. "My Erik… just promise me that… you will remember me… in years to come. I was… was never a slave to you, was I?"

"Never!" I replied and drew her closer, "you are… my love!"

She smiled one last time, then her eyes rolled up into her head and she went limp in my arms.

Unable to comprehend what had just happened, to accept that I had lost her so soon, I gathered her even closer and buried my face in her sweet-smelling hair, screaming and wailing my sorrow into the night.

I buried her a short distance off the road. Her grave is not marked, but I would always find it again. I have nothing to remind me of her, nothing to remember her soft voice, her warm eyes and her gentle hands by. I only have my memories, and those hardly sustain me in the lonely hell that my life has become with her passing.

My pain was all consuming at first. It was only years later in Paris, with the war going on and the city in shambles, that I found some comfort in another little lady.

I found her in the streets, starving and dishevelled, but still beautiful. As I picked up the shy Siamese kitten, I almost felt like I was back in the palace of the shah. And then I looked into the cat's eyes, the deep eyes that looked into mine with so much warmth and gentleness, and a hint of mischief… I knew of only one name to call her.

Ayesha. 

A/N: My gosh, I'm seriously crying! I hadn't planned on having her die at first, it just turned out that way. (sobs) Well, at least the story isn't too much AU now. Please review, I'd appreciate that.


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